


Day Like Today

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:24:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: This is nothing new, but it’s all of a sudden frustrating, like a wall that’s always been there only Alex is fucking sick of looking at it.





	Day Like Today

**Author's Note:**

> i will be writing garciraki navigating ldr until i stop writing fanfic 
> 
> happy 8/7 everyone

Alex wakes up to the smell of wet wood; she rolls over and groans but she can’t ignore the sound of rain in the gutters outside, running down into the alley five floors below; somewhere nearby a car alarm goes off and she supposes there’s no going back to sleep now. Not when she has to sit up and close the window most of the way to stop it from raining in too much, check her phone and delete spam e-mails, and then get up because she needs to pee.

She pulls up the covers when she gets back into bed. The weather’s been getting warm; there’s nothing quite like the gross feeling of late spring rain here, but at least the world outside’s a little bit greener for the moment. But the rain leaves her stuck indoors on days like this with nothing but her own thoughts, bouncing around in her head, inadequacies and the feeling that she ought to be doing something rising to the surface like carbon in a bottle of seltzer that hasn’t been closed all the way. Her phone vibrates in her hand, and then again; she picks it up without looking at the screen (there’s only one person it could be, unless it’s a telemarketer).

“Hey.”

“Good morning.”

“Good middle of the night to you,” says Alex. “Almost midnight.”

There’s a little bit of reproach in her voice (Masako shouldn’t be staying up this late, especially not if it’s just to talk to her because there are times that make more sense for both of them) but not too much; it’s been a week since they’ve exchanged more than texts scattered throughout their days, most with hours between them, closer to letters than conversations. It’s good to hear Masako’s voice, a little bit frayed with sleepiness but still sharp, warm, loosening something inside of Alex.

“I’m still shaking things out with the new roster,” says Masako. “The first practice game’s tomorrow, so I thought I’d take a break and call you.”

(Masako works her kids hard, but she works just as hard herself for them; it’s part of what makes her such a damn good coach.)

“I’m glad you did,” says Alex. “How close are you?”

“Pretty close,” says Masako. “It’s more of figuring out all my options with arranging the forwards…I’m done watching video, though; Seihou has this new first-year who’s supposedly really good and I’ve been looking at his middle school tapes. We have the right stuff to counter him.”

“That’s good,” says Alex. “Even if you went in spontaneously, though—”

“Don’t even,” says Masako, and Alex can almost see the face she’s making in her mind.

Almost, but not totally; it’s a facsimile in her mind, a composite of memory and lagging video calls, of the low-light selfies Masako sends her every once in a while, at her desk with a half-finished bento or on the couch and leaning in, taken with her laptop’s webcam. Frozen, still, minus the way she moves, the dimension of being with her. This is nothing new, but it’s all of a sudden frustrating, like a wall that’s always been there only Alex is fucking sick of looking at it.

“Getting ready to go out?”

“Eh,” says Alex. “It’s raining, so I’m skipping the street court today. I’m sure some of the kids will be out there, but not me.”

“Lazy,” says Masako.

“Probably,” says Alex with a grin.

Her fingers relax on the edges of her phone; God, she wants to pick Masako’s brain about basketball, about her strategy. But this is Masako’s break from work (but they won’t have time, especially what with the game today); all of their time is precious; she wants to talk about nothing and just be with Masako, even if it’s on the phone, and she wants to talk about Akita and LA and what Masako’s making for lunch tomorrow but there’s never enough time in their scattered moments, and when Alex tries to cram everything in it’s even more unsatisfying, like when she’s sexting Masako and thinking too much about actually touching Masako, and about Masako touching her, but it’s just her own hands on her own body.

Which isn’t to say Masako isn’t enough, that this isn’t enough, that Alex would want someone else on this side of the Pacific or nothing like this at all; she wants this. As it is, with all of the difficulties; it’s not that it’s not worth it (she’s never questioned that). It’s just. A day when she’s feeling like shit, when she wants to let Masako in, when she wants to vent but she doesn’t know what to say exactly and what she really wants is Masako to be there and hug her, pull her in firmly and rub her back, because a relationship isn’t just words and images. Because there’s no goddamn time to talk about what Alex wants to talk about, to do what she wants to do. Because she can barely remember the pressure of Masako’s fingers on her wrists.

“I miss you,” Alex blurts, not the kind of direct thing she usually says, not the way she wants to say it, but it’s the most adequate way of summing everything up she can think of.

“I miss you too, Alex,” Masako says.

Her voice is softer and Alex closes her eyes, sliding her glasses up on her forehead, tries to block out everything except for Masako’s voice, the distant sounds of the background in her apartment filtered through the cell phone microphone. Of course Alex knows Masako misses her, but hearing it in her voice, even as a response, an affirmation, is something of—not a relief, but there’s no better word. It’s like a heat unfurling in her chest, like white smoke out of a distant incinerator into the fog and rain and grey that settles over the city. She still feels weird, a little bit restless, but on a day like this when she should be doing something, maybe she won’t. The rain outside has blurred everything, the view through the windowpanes and the building across the alley; Alex yawns.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Nah,” says Alex. “We should both sleep, though.”

Masako sighs. “I still have to finalize those plays.”

“Stay on the line, then?”

“Okay.”

Just hearing her breathe, the scratch of pencil on paper, is no substitute for Masako in her arms, coaxed into bed with work still unfinished, when it’s night for both of them and Masako’s not finishing the day just as Alex starts it. It’s not Masako’s fingers through her hair. But it’s their relationship as it is, fond and worn-in, things as they are, putting Alex a little bit more at ease on a day like today.


End file.
